


Blame It On The Alcohol

by alexkholodova



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Jealous Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexkholodova/pseuds/alexkholodova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drunk / tipsy Olicty interactions ficlets.<br/>Chapter 1: Season 3 UST: The One Where Oliver Doesn't Have a Problem<br/>Chapter 2: Season 5 UST: The One Where Felicity Drinks Vodka In the Lair</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Where Oliver Doesn't Have a Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver tries to enjoy the party, he really does, but his patience is wearing thin, the anger, fuelled by whiskey and the feelings he refuses to acknowledge, raising to the top and making him realise that he needs to leave right now before he does something stupid…

Oliver has never been a fan of gallery openings and galas and charity events. Not in the rebellious years before the island and even less so after his crucible. They always managed to bore him to death, but tonight was a special kind of torture. Not only did he lose his company to a young billionaire genius, now he was forced to attend his parties as well. He had to smile and nod, while Ray coaxed the investors and joked with the board members.  He had to be civil to the man, who took everything from him.

His company. His father’s legacy. The family business.

And now Ray wanted to add his girl to that list…

Oh, how he hated the way Palmer looked at her, the way he smiled at her so effortlessly.  But nothing could compare to a white hot rage boiling the blood in his veins when he saw Ray gently grazing her shoulder with his fingertips. And if he went to get his third giant glass of bourbon at the bar, well who could blame him? 

***

Oliver tries to enjoy the party, he really does, but his patience is wearing thin, the anger, fuelled by whiskey and the feelings he refuses to acknowledge, raising to the top and making him realise that he needs to leave right now before he does something stupid…

“What the hell is you problem, Oliver?!” she shouts in the deserted hallway of the gallery. She is almost running in her black high heels, trying to catch up to him.

His problem? Oh, where does he begin?

“I don’t _have_ a problem, Felicity” he spits out hastily. A lie he tells himself so often, he almost believes it.

“Yeah right” she scoffs “If looks could kill, Ray would be dying a slow agonising death right now… He’s just lucky you couldn’t bring your bow with you”…

Oh, he is Ray now… Not Mr Palmer, no, he is _Ray_ …

“You know, it was your choice Oliver...” she continues, her voice softening somehow, trying to calm him down, he realises. But no one, not ever her, could quench the fire eating him alive right now.

“You really think I wanted this?” he fumes, stepping closer. “You think that I wanted to see someone swooping in and taking everything from me?”

He realises his mistake almost instantly. Felicity is magnetic and he can’t think clearly with her so close, her breathing shallow from running after him, her cherry lips parted.

“Oliver, your company…”

“I’m not talking about my company” he interrupts, running his hands over his face letting them drag through his short blond hair. “No, Felicity, Palmer wants to take something far more valuable”.

She gasps and he can’t help but take a step closer. Too close… Not nearly close enough.

“The thought of him being near you, talking to you, touching you… The thought of _anyone_ touching you… It kills me” he grunts, his voice a sharp contrast to the gentleness of his fingertips caressing her cheek, sliding them down her neck to her collarbone, feeling her heartbeat speeding up as a rosy blush dawns her face.

“Oliver, you can’t just…” she pants, but the argument dies on her lips when he grabs her wrist and leans right into her personal space.

“Can’t what, Felicity?” he whispers, his voice low and seductive. “What _exactly_ can’t I do?” he asks and his lips ghost over the shell of her ear, “Because I want to do oh so many things to you…I want to run my hands all over your beautiful body, kiss you until you can no longer remember your own name. I want to guide you into one of rooms in this gallery and pin you down to the nearest wall, lift you up until you have your legs wrapped around my back…”

Deep down he knows he should stop, he should let her go and just get home, get a cold shower or two and train for a while to let off some steam, but then he remembers Ray’s fingers sliding down her arms, comforting her, kissing her cheek, and something primal ignites his soul and all of the sudden he kisses her with passion, with abandon, like their lives depend on it.

The last remnants of his self-control are crumbling now and if he was honest with himself, he never stood a chance in that particular battle. He blames it on bourbon… And that red dress wrapped tightly around her body… And the fact that he is completely and undeniably, one hundred percent in love this this incredible woman.

A low moan escapes her lips as he sweeps his tongue across her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting gently. Her taste is enchanting, it’s intoxicating, and he can’t help but drag his lips along the expanse of her long neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses on her overheated skin, leaving marks that will certainly raise some questions tomorrow. He almost stops himself, but then she keens his name, spurring him on, rushing a new wave of desire through every cell of his body.

He wants to hear his name on her lips again and again and again. He just wants _her_. Consequences be damned!

He throws the caution to the wind and splays his hand across her waist pulling her even closer, the other one going straight to her soft blonde hair, revelling in the feel that is just… her… Their kiss is desperate and a little sloppy, all lips and tongue and pure passion mixed with love and admiration.

They almost stumble a couple of times as Oliver guides them into the nearest room without really looking where they are going. Some logical part of him realises that the small moonlit room must be the manager’s office, but the rest of his brain is focused on Felicity’s soft lips moving against his jaw.

She gasps and digs her brightly coloured nails into his back as Oliver lifts her up effortlessly and walks towards the desk, his lips never leaving hers.  And in this moment he feels like the time has stopped moving, like the entire universe just disappeared, like they are completely alone in this world. Just them and nothing else matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment and tell me what you think.
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out my Tumblr as well http://mercilesscupid.tumblr.com/
> 
> Have an awesome day, you wonderful human being!


	2. The One Where Felicity Drinks Vodka In the Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks good in the tuxedo, she has to admit as much… He always has… His tight muscles playing under the crisp white shirt… Yes, they are no longer together, and are apparently both moving on, if tonight is any indication, but she isn’t blind!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sorta came out of nowhere and demanded to be written. It's not related to the previous chapter at all. So technically you can call this my collection of random fics, that will be updated when and if the inspiration strikes. 
> 
> The theme stays the same though - drunk Olicity interactions,
> 
> Anyways, I hope you do enjoy this little ficlet.

She honestly cannot remember the last time she was this drunk, Felicity thinks to herself, college, maybe. Probably the day she found out about Cooper. And then there was that one time in Spain last summer, but that was a very different kind of drunk Felicity, a fun drunk Felicity… A _funk_ Felicity, if you will! Tonight is not fun though, oh no, there was nothing fun about tonight. The meeting at Palmer Tech was a disaster, as were the previous 100 meetings and yet another citizen of Havenrock has succumbed to cancer. Hence her drinking alone in the lair in wee hours of the Wednesday evening. 

Vodka is not her favourite drink, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers and that’s the only kind of alcohol she could find in the mini fridge in the new lair, so she tops up her glass and sets the bottle down before taking off her high heels and getting more comfortable on the little corner sofa they have brought into the lair. Neither her, nor Oliver are exactly flush with cash at the moment, but that seemed like a good investment. With John gone, and God does she hope he is safe in that hell hole they call a country, and Thea adamant on living a normal life, it’s been busy. Most nights she gets home just before dawn, completely exhausted, and falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. But at least she makes it home at all. Oliver, she noticed, spends most of the nights in the lair, crashing on the couch after his nightly patrols, claiming his new place is too far away ( _debatable_ ) and he is too tired to drive ( _that she does believe_ ). At least tonight he will get some sleep though. He is at the gala for…. She wants to say some charity, or was it an annual city ball? Ah, who cares?! Vodka doesn’t, and neither does she… Nor does she care that he took that reporter as his date… What was her name? Suzie? No, that wasn’t it… Susan, it was definitely Susan… Pretty, leggy brunette from Coast City, so totally Oliver’s type… 

“Felicity?”, she hears suddenly, as the man she was just thinking of rounds the corner, surprise ringing clear in his tone, “What are you doing here?”

He startles her and Felicity has to suppress her instinct to jump (which would inevitably lead to her spilling the contents of her glass on her blouse) before managing to steady herself. Damn the man and his ninja skills. 

“I thought you were at the gala” is all she can come up with… It’s not like things between them are weird per se, but the conversations definitely require more of an effort now, especially since that little 2 AM talk they had on the balcony of what used to be _their_ loft.

“Celebrating something?”, Oliver asks, raising his brow and pointing at the glass in her hand.

“Yeah, just the lousiest day of the year, you know… I mean, I’ve had at least 17 of those in the past 6 months alone, so….”, she shrugs and takes a sip of the clear liquid. It burns her throat, but as long as it does its job of numbing the feelings, it’s a sacrifice she is willing to take.

“Can I join?” he throws nonchalantly over his shoulder as he turns around to take off his jacket and hang it over the sofa corner.

He looks good in the tuxedo, she has to admit as much… He always has… His tight muscles playing under the crisp white shirt… Yes, they are no longer together, and are apparently both moving on, if tonight is any indication, but she isn’t _blind_! 

“Yeah, go ahead”, is all Felicity could say, her voice barely louder than a whisper. And it could be the exhaustion from months of sleepless nights or the icy drink or something else entirely, but deep down they both know that Felicity is just nervous. Nervous because he looks at her with those blue eyes that make her forget her own name. Nervous because he is sitting so unbelievably close on this tiny corner sofa that their knees are almost touching. Nervous, that she can just detect the smell of his cologne, the one that used to drive her crazy. Nervous, because he doesn’t bother getting a glass for himself and his fingers brush against the sensitive skin inside her wrist as he grabs hers, staying, perhaps, just a moment too long to be acceptable between friends.

“So, how was the meeting with the shareholders”, he asks, twirling the glass in his hands before finally taking a sip and passing it back to her, “I expected you too be convincing them of the benefits of this investment right now, and not drinking cheap Russian Vodka… here”, he says, gesturing towards the lair.

“Well, I expected you to be wooing gorgeous reporters at the Gala, you are Star City’s most eligible bachelor after all…”The words slip off her tongue before Felicity could stop them. Hell, she didn’t even know she _thought_ them! And she instantly regrets it, because, not only was it extremely mean to imply that Oliver has reverted to the man he was 9 years ago, but it is and is also none of her business… At all… “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just been a long day, that’s all”, she murmurs finally, while pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

And she means that. Oliver doesn’t deserve this. She chose to end their engagement, she walked away and she definitely has no right to be jealous of Susan. She knows that… She does… Her heart just didn't get the memo…

“Didn’t you?”, he smirks, a corner of his mouth barely lifting and judging by that predatory grin on his face, this is not gonna end well for her sanity. “You know, you can admit it, Felicity”, he whispers right next to her ear. And when did he even move so close? “You can admit that it _bothers_ you, that I might be touching somebody else the way I used to touch you, the way my lips moved against you skin and raised those tiny goosebumps”, he continues, and she can distinctly feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of her neck. The memories are not her friends, Felicity realises right at this moment, as her brain readily conjures dozens of images of Oliver doing just that in Italy, and France, Brazil, Bali, the list goes on…“Or maybe it bothers you that your current boyfriend just doesn’t do it for you, huh? Maybe, deep down you’re still comparing him to me, Felicity”, he murmurs, slowly sliding his thumb across her bottom lip.

Mention of Billy hits her overheated skin like a bucket of ice cold water and brings her of this weird reverie that his voice has put he in, making her to assess the situation. And then the panic hits. Because they are alone in the lair, drunk, sitting so close on this tiny couch that their breaths are mingling and mixing, and it’s not good… No, it’s the opposite of good… It’s not good that she cant stop staring at his lips… It’s not good that her fingers _crave_ to touch his face, neck, chest, to feel his heartbeat in the junction of his collarbone…  _Not good at all..._ So she stands up quickly, perhaps a tad too quickly, as the world blurs a little with the movement and she takes an involuntary step back, fully expecting to stumble and fall because this day just could not be any shittier if it tried. But she doesn’t. In one fluent motion Oliver’s hand reaches over and grabs hers, steadying her until the world comes into focus again, his blue eyes burning hers with concern and something Felicity doesn’t want to put a name on… _can’t let herself_ put a name on…

A second passes… Then another… And his hand doesn’t move from her wrist, the contrast of the roughness of his calloused fingers against her tender skin sending jolts of electricity through her body and making her mind spin. And she can’t make herself look away from those blue eyes full of emotions that are looking up at her.

Her phone beeps once, breaking the silence filled with tension, breaking the unspoken spell, and as she fishes her cell out of the pocket, she already knows who texted her, so she looks down at the screen and types a quick reply before finally putting on her high hills and ordering a cab. And as much as she wants to, she can’t spare him a glance, because if she does, deep inside she knows she will stay right here in this damp, dimly lit lair with him. And she can’t. Because that’s what _she_ wanted. So without a second glance Felicity heads up the stairs throwing a quick ‘Night, Oliver’ over her shoulder.

“I haven’t”, Oliver starts making her pause for a second and turn around, the silence filling the space between them. The glass Felicity was drinking from, the one that still has the remnants of her lipstick right on the rim, clasped tight in hand. “I haven’t wooed her”, he finally murmurs, his eyes cast down on the floor now, “She is everything a man could wish for — smart, funny, attractive, driven… But she is not my always, and I’m not going to settle for anything else, Felicity”, he whispers across the space, and she would be lying if she said that her heart ( _the traitor_ ) hasn’t skip a beat there. Just one though. That’s all that she would allow herself, or himself, or them. One stuttered heartbeat…

One step up the stairs...

And then another... 

And another....

“I do, you know”, Felicity admits meeting his gaze across this dark little sanctuary that they call their second home, “I compare him to you every day. And it terrifies me that I will never be able to stop”.

She walks up the stairs in silence, aware of his eyes on her but unable to look at him, to think about _them_. So she walks up the stairs, punches in the security code in the automatic lock and leaves the lair, stepping in the darkness of the night and breathing in the crisp air freely for the first time in the past hour…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment and tell me what you think.
> 
> If you're so inclined, check out my Tumblr as well http://mercilesscupid.tumblr.com/
> 
> Have an awesome day, you wonderful human being!


End file.
